


Gone Hunting

by ewmyname



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe, Avvar AU, M/M, Minor allusions to sex, Yes I live
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23185777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ewmyname/pseuds/ewmyname
Summary: A chance meeting while on the run from his family drives Dorian into the arms of an Avvar man, but only briefly. Their story is not yet finished how, because Kristian ar o Stone-Bearhold has a long memory(Set in a universe where male Inquisitor is an Avvar and Dorian still joins the Inquisition but Trevelyan is not the Inquisitor.)
Relationships: Dorian Pavus/Inquisitor, Dorian Pavus/Male Trevelyan, Dorian Pavus/Trevelyan, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 4





	Gone Hunting

**Author's Note:**

> There will be more chapters to come! I just... need to write them is all

Dorian Pavus liked to think of himself as a smart man.

He was a man of propriety, status and charm. He had plenty of charm. He was handsome, well off and smart. But the situation he found himself in was anything _but_ smart. Running from his family may have been his only option, but Maker it had not been the smartest option. He had been lucky till now to be able to fend for himself. Using the meager funds that he had managed to steal away to keep himself off the streets. But now those funds were slipping away. He had little coin left to his name, and if he still wanted to eat a civilised meal he had to make sacrifices.

And those sacrifices meant forgoing lodgings for the night. It meant roughing it out in the forest. Dorian had never in his entire near 30 years of life had to rough it out in the _forest_ before. It was unbecoming of a man of his status, and yet here he was. Shivering, cold and tired. He had barely been able to get a wink of a sleep, too scared to light a fire lest he set the whole forest on fire and too spooked by the distant howls of wolves.

That had been his only worries until he violently jerked awake by the sound of leaves crunching. And then he was worried about _death_. Was it bandits? Mage hunters? Templars? Even worse was it his father’s people?

Dorian doesn’t dare speak, instead carefully reaching for his staff. His fingers wrap around the wood, holding on tightly to it. His eyes dart around the area, fixed on where he could possibly be ambushed from.

Dorian wasn’t expecting an Avvar however.

He came from the trees, a bow raised and an arrow pointed right at Dorian. He’s clothed in typical Avvar garb, fur lining his shoulders and paint marking the rest of his bare body. Something Dorian may have lingered on if he wasn’t preoccupied with not dying. His hair is brown, cut close to the scalp and then wild and messy up the top, with dark brown eyes that glittered a slight gold in the moonlight.

“Who are you?” He asks, never drawing his bow back. He keeps it steady, trained on Dorian. Dorian knows he would have no chance of escape. Avvar are strong, quick. He releases the staff from his hands, before holding them up in surrender.

“Dorian Pavus.” He answers, surprised at how steady his voice remains.

“What are you doing here?” The Avvar’s words are thick with his accent, rolling deliciously into the air. Deliciously? Dorian mentally shakes himself, forcing those thoughts from his mind. No. He couldn’t afford to think that right now.

“Attempting to sleep before you interrupted me.”

The Avvar man blinks, before lowering his bow. He doesn’t completely relax it, but at least it’s not pointing at Dorian’s head any longer. That’s a good sign at the very least.

“Do you not know that this is wolf territory?” The Avvar man cocks his head at Dorian, “It is the last place someone should sleep.”

“No I didn’t know that,” Dorian could feel his face flush a little in embarrassment. “Do you think I would have attempted to sleep here if I did?”

“No… I suppose not.” The Avvar man seems to completely relax then, putting his bow and arrow away. Dorian notices the glint of daggers in the moonlight.

“You should leave here.” He says, eyes darting away briefly. “The wolves will prey on you.” His gaze moves back to Dorian’s, holding it firmly. He doesn’t shy under the mage’s intense gaze. Instead he holds it, brown eyes meeting grey eyes intensely. “There is lodging not too far from here.”

“Wonderful. Except I cannot afford it.” Dorian shrugs one of his shoulders halfheartedly.

“You cannot _afford_ it?” The Avvar man says it with such incredulousness that Dorian winces. “You are wearing half of your money.”

“I would rather not part with my bodily items.”

“Hmm.” The man grunts, seeming to mull something in his mind. “Come with me then.”

“Excuse me?” Dorian sputters, taken aback by the sudden invitation. The Avvar man seems hardly phased, cocking his head to the side.

“Come with me. I have a fire. And it is not in wolf territory.”

“And how do I trust you won’t rob me blind as soon as I fall asleep?” Dorian raises an eyebrow. The man blinks again, the confused expression returning.

“I have no need for your lowlander things. I can get all I need from my hold.” He says it with such innocence that Dorian finds himself inclined to believe this stranger.

The mage sighs before standing up, pulling his pack up with him. He holds one finger up as the Avvar man seems to twitch in excitement.

“Fine. On one condition;” Dorian speaks, his voice turning to a low warning. “You rob me and I roast you. Understood?”

“Understood.” He nods his head, a sort of surprising conviction in his voice. It takes Dorian by surprise, but he refuses to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Come. This way.”

The Avvar man turns, and Dorian follows. He’s not exactly hot on his heels, but he doesn’t stray far. Dorian didn’t want to become wolf food after all, that’s the only reason he’s following the Avvar man. At least that’s what he keeps telling himself. The man seems to be completely relaxed upon first appearance, but as Dorian looks closer he realises that’s far from the truth. There’s a tense nature to his taut back muscles, and his right hand stays near to his dagger. He’s completely prepared in case Dorian does something. Dorian can’t help but admire the man’s conviction. He’s wary and untrusting of Dorian, yet he can’t leave him to be wolf food.

“Say,” Dorian speaks finally, “You know my name. Am I ever going to know yours?”

He watched the muscular back in front of him tense again. Interesting. There’s a pregnant pause after Dorian speaks. Dorian figures the man is trying to figure if he should say his name or not. Maybe there is some sort of old Avvar custom about names that Dorian doesn’t know of.

“Kristian ar o Stone-Bearhold.” He finally answers, though he doesn’t seem to relax.

“That is a mouthful.”

“You may just call me Kristian… If you wish.”

The rest of their walk is silent, with neither party saying a word. It’s not too far of a walk to Kristian’s camp, and when Dorian finally reaches it he makes an immediate beeline for the fire. He falls to his knees, holding his cold hands before the flames. _Maker_ , he was becoming so cold out there. An amused chuckle comes from behind him, and he turns his head to see Kristian snickering softly. Though when the Avvar man realises he has been seen, he flushes a slight red colour and tries to cover it up by clearing his throat.

“So,” Dorian leans back, watching the mountain of a man make his way around the fire. “May I ask what you are doing out here? As far as I know, there are no Avvar holds around here.”

“Hunting,” He answers, pulling out a knife and a whittle. “My clan needs the meat and the pelts. I am here for them.”

“Are you hunting the wolves?”

Dorian receives a nod, but nothing more. Not a man of many words, is what he gathers. Or perhaps he is unwilling to speak much due to their little knowledge of each other. Dorian doesn’t press it however, though he feels about a million questions bubbling at the back of his mind. All he has ever heard of Avvar is that they’re barbaric and simple. Yet the man before him gives neither of those perceptions any credit. While they have not spoken about intellectual concepts, the man still speaks common as fluently and as easily as Dorian. And he hasn’t attempted to kill Dorian, even giving him a warm place to sleep, which hardly spoke of any sort of barbaric nature. Kristian hardly seemed to give any credit to those stereotypes.

“You are staring.” He speaks finally, and Dorian realises he is. Huh. He was staring. He has not been so obvious about his admiration in quite some time.

“So I am.” Dorian answers, leaning away from the fire slightly.

“Why?” Kristian asks, setting his knife and whittle down.

“I have never met an Avvar before,” Dorian shrugs a shoulder. “So I am very curious.”

Kristian chuckles, a low and deep sound in the middle of his chest. Dorian allows himself the thought that the laughter was delicious sounding, along with the man’s voice. The accent was pretty attractive, he did have to admit that.

“I have met many a lowlander. They are always curious,” He leans back, watching Dorian curiously. His brown eyes are illuminated by the light of the fire, gold flecks flickering in the dark. “What are you curious about exactly?”

“I… Well. There are many things.” Dorian rubs his chin, before standing up from his spot. He makes his way over to Kristian, seating himself next to the Avvar man. “I would not know where to even start.”

“Then may I ask a question?” Dorian blinks, surprised.

“You may.”

“Where… are you from?” Kristian turns to him, facing Dorian more clearly. Now, the mage can see his face better. Light brown skin, marred by the odd scar and enhanced by freckles and moles. A hooked nose, sitting over soft, plump lips. He watches Dorian with a curiosity that he hasn’t seen in quite some time.

“Tevinter.” Dorian answers, finally.

“Tevinter…” Kristian muses, mulling the words in his mouth. “That is far from here.”

“You know of it?” Dorian raises an eyebrow. In all honesty he had expected the Avvar man to know little of the outside world.

“You think me so ignorant as to not know other places?” He chuckles a little, shaking his head. “I have never been to Tevinter but I know of it.”

“Do you travel then?” Dorian asks.

“Some.” Kristian shrugs, “I have not been very far but yes, I have traveled.”

“For your hold?”

“Mm, yes. While we Avvar are proud people we cannot make everything, though don’t say that around us.” He chuckles a little bit, and Dorian finds himself laughing as well. “And I can get good prices for meat and pelt in smaller villages.”

“Ah. So that’s how you know common.”

“Yes. I was taught so I may communicate with your people. It’s hard to make a bargain when you barely understand the language, or they barely understand you.”

Dorian hums in agreement, looking back at the fire. He had never pictured his life taking this sort of turn. Even after leaving his home, he never imagined that he would one day find himself in the company of an Avvar man. They had always been a fable, something that he thought mother’s told children to scare them. But now here he was, sitting next to a legend. In the flesh.

“May I ask you something?” Kristian’s voice brings him out of his thoughts, and Dorian blinks.

“Of course.”

“Why are you here?” Kristian gestures around, at the forest mostly. But Dorian wonders if he’s maybe asking why Dorian is here at the campfire.

“I am…” Dorian pauses, struggling to find the right words. He can’t tell a stranger out of the blue _just so you know I ran away from home because my father was going to change me with blood magic_ _and also I prefer the company of men._ “Travelling.” He finally settles on that, shifting slightly.

“Did you not bring enough funds with you?” Kristian teases, chuckling in amusement.

“It was an unexpected trip.” Dorian turns his nose up slightly, pouting a little bit.

“I am not making fun of you.” Though Kristian’s tone says otherwise, as well as the slight tilt of his mouth. He was smirking, amused with himself.

“Yes you _are_.” Dorian leans slightly, bumping his shoulder against Kristian’s own. The other man stiffens briefly, before relaxing. They stay there, shoulders lightly touching. Kristian’s skin is warm, and Dorian finds himself wanting to touch it. Feel the other man’s muscular figure beneath his hands, the scars and the rugged plains of his body. He can’t. He shouldn’t.

“Apologies.” Kristian’s voice is still cheery, a slight giggle to his words.

“You’re not sorry.” Dorian sighs, though his words aren’t really serious. He’s teasing too, a lighter tone taking over.

They both go quiet at this time, but it’s a more comfortable silence. Kristian seems to be relaxing, and Dorian feels less like he may get murdered by the attractive barbarian.

“I am… curious about something else.” Kristian brokers the silence, placing his knife and whittle down to wring his hands together. Dorian raises an eyebrow at him, silently beckoning him to continue. “In the lowlands are… male relationships with other…” He stops, his words trailing off as his brow furrows. “Are… male relationships with other men seen as…”

“Taboo?” Dorian finishes, raising both eyebrows now. Kristian nods, his face turning a dark red.

“Yes. Are… they?”

“Well,” Dorian leans back. “I was not expecting that question.”

“I am sorry it is-- It is pretty out there and maybe I should not have asked you, Lady forgive me you can just forge--”

“No, no. It is fine.” Dorian waves his hand dismissively. “I would not know about places other than Tevinter. While the Chantry has no laws against it, it is seen as… Strange. In Tevinter, same gender relations between nobles are to be kept hidden. You may have them of course, but you must also complete your… duty to your family.”

“Ah.” Kristian quiets then, his fingers locking together tightly.

“Why did you ask?” Now Dorian’s own curiosity was getting the better of him. The question was certainly an odd one, something Dorian hadn’t expected.

“Curiosity.” Kristian answers too quickly, looking away too quickly. Even if Dorian was not who he is, he would have known it to be a lie.

“I see.” Dorian doesn’t press. Kristian seems unwilling and unwanting to expand upon why of all things, he chose _that_ to ask a question about. Dorian’s mind races with the possibilities. Does Dorian smell like someone who favours men? Or does Kristian favour men? Is it some form of taboo amongst the Avvar to favour men and he was wondering if he would be better off elsewhere? There were many questions that could be asked, all too personal for Dorian’s liking.

Their silence now was back to uncomfortableness. Dorian shifted slightly so that their shoulders were no longer touching. He could have sworn when doing so, that Kristian looked at him with a hurt expression, but when the mage turned to look the Avvar man was turned away. Eventually he left Dorian alone, turning to his bedroll. He set about unraveling it, and Dorian couldn’t help but watch.

He watched the way Kristian’s muscles rolled and moved beneath his skin, the way it rippled slightly in the fire’s light. The way the muscle strained as Kristian reached for something, or pulled on something or other. He trailed his eyes down, gazing slowly over the other man’s spine. Down, to the hide wrapped around his hips, snug against Kristian’s rather nice ass. Dorian feels the corner of his mouth tug upwards slightly, a smirk forming there. He wondered idly what his ass felt like. Was it strong and muscular like the rest of Kristian?

“You’re staring again.” Dorian jumped. Kristian hadn’t even turned around, and yet he seemed to know where Dorian’s gaze lay.

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Kristian answers, now looking over his shoulder. “Your eyes were boring holes in my back.”

“They were boring holes in the wrong area then.” Dorian answers, his smirk only widening. It grew into a rather amused grin as Kristian turned a deep red colour, ducking his head to hide from Dorian’s gaze.

“Why?” The question perplexes Dorian.

“Why what?”

“Why are you staring at me?” Kristian’s voice is meeker now, almost nervous. He’s still flustered though, shown by the red on the back of his neck and the tips of his ears.

“You are a rather strapping young man, with a nice back. I can cease if you would like me to.”

There’s a long pause again. Kristian seems to once again be mulling his words over, choosing how he wishes to respond. Dorian wonders if he’s frightened the man. No, a simple bit of flirting wouldn’t scare an Avvar man. But maybe it would scare Kristian particularly.

“No.” Kristian finally speaks again.

“No?” Dorian asks, cocking his head to the side.

“I don’t want you to stop.” Kristian finally looks at him again. While there’s still embarrassment on his face, there’s a new look in his eyes. A sort of animalistic desire is there, and it makes something stir in Dorian’s loins. He shifts under Kristian’s gaze.

“Then I won’t.” Dorian surprises himself, his voice coming out in a low whisper.

“Would you… like to come over here?” Kristian asks, his voice nervous but hopeful.

Dorian contemplates the question for a moment. Does he wish to come over there? Maybe he should hold his desires back, but by the Maker it has been so long. He hadn’t known the touch of another man in too long, that at this point he was almost desperate. Desperate enough to sleep with a barbarian. How his father would hate him if he saw it. So that only served to further spur him on.

“I would very much like to.”

-

When morning comes Dorian is the first to wake up. He awakes to Kristian, arm slung over his waist and the man in question softly snoring next to him. Kristian’s hair was messy, even more so than it had been earlier. Dorian likes to think that it was partly due to him, and not due to sleep.

The night before had been amazing. Kristian was less experienced compared to Dorian, but he wasn’t a clumsy, blushing virgin by any means. He was strong, sliding into the role of leadership easily and eagerly.

And Maker was he a good fuck. Strong, warm hands wrapped around Dorian’s cock. A hot mouth attached to his neck, suckling and biting and sure to leave marks there. Firm, calloused hands had groped Dorian’s ass. A thick, heavy cock slid into him with almost expert ease. The same member brought him to near tears as he was fucked relentlessly into the bedroll.

But that was last night. And now it was morning. Dorian couldn’t afford to linger. Not anywhere. Carefully he disentangled himself from Kristian’s arms, making sure to not wake the sleeping Avvar. His ass protested along with his legs at the movement, demanding more rest and lying down. Maker, even sparing a look to the Avvar made his loins protest loudly as well.

But he couldn’t spare it. No. He had places to be. Things to do. Urgent things he needed to do and staying to bed the Avvar man a second time was not one of them. So this was his fate. He wished he didn’t have to leave like this, but he knew if Kristian knew he was leaving he would be asked questions. Why? Where? Can I not join you? Countless other remarks that Dorian felt unable to answer.

After pulling on his clothing finally, Dorian soared a final glance at the Avvar man. Kristian ar o Stone-Bearhold. He sighed a little, closing his eyes briefly. He didn’t want to leave. Neither did his body. He wished he could rest some more but this… The leaving… It was better in the long run. For everybody involved.

And so he left.


End file.
